


Life Penalty

by Sumomothegoddess



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, Awesome Morgana, Canon verse, F/M, Immortal Merlin, Immortality, Infidelity, M/M, Magic Revealed, Merthur - Freeform, Modern Era, Oblivious Arthur, One-Sided Relationship, Reincarnation, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:04:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4403633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumomothegoddess/pseuds/Sumomothegoddess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the death of King Arthur, it is revealed that Merlin has magic. Instead of putting him to death, Queen Guinevere punishes him with immortality. At first, he didn’t see the punishment in living forever. Then, after a century passes, he sees Arthur again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Long Live the Damned

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for awhile and I had to post it somewhere.  
> This is my first time writing for this fandom, so let's hope I don't mess it up!

King Arthur’s funeral lasted for all of four hours. Tears shed amongst the people of Camelot, knights and peasants alike, enough to restore life to driest streams. All condolences were given to Arthur’s queen, who spoke to the crowd of mourning individuals about her husband and the resilient impact his reign had on all of the hearts in Camelot. At her side stood the king’s loyal manservant, chained at his hands and feet.

His eyes pointed downward, hiding his pain from the crowd instead of presenting on a platter as the queen had done. She hadn’t spared him so much as a second glance either. Over her own dead body would look at this man and pity him. He’d been the one who held onto to her husband as he took his final breaths. He’d heard his final words, seen his final smile, and felt the final beats of the king’s heart. That wasn’t how he’d broken her heart, however.

 

As Queen Guinevere’s honoring speech came to an end, the audience’s attention shifts from her to the shackled servant. Guinevere scowls and orders the guards to place the man in the center of the platform.

“As you all are aware,” she starts with a soft scowl. “This man was King Arthur’s loyal manservant, Merlin. You would believe that he’d be truthful and wholly dedicated to him, wouldn’t you?”

The crowd murmurs in her favor.

“Instead of that, I’ve found reason to believe that dear Merlin had signed our king’s death warrant.”

 

Merlin inwardly cringed, fighting the urge to argue with her. Even as the crowd gasped and roared at him, he kept himself composed.

 

“In the years I’ve known Merlin, not once had he mention anything about magic. Apparently, he’s a bloody sorcerer!”

The uproar increases and Merlin’s pretty sure he felt someone throw a rock at him.

“Not only that, his betrayal runs deeper,” Guinevere is now snarling, amplifying the crowd’s anger further. “He is a Dragonlord. One of the king’s knights witnessed him summon the very same dragon that attacked Camelot during the reign of Uther Pendragon and slaughtered many innocent people.”

 

“Traitor!” one person roars.

“You killed Arthur!” another accuses.

“Off with his head!”

 

Similar shouts pierced the air and landed directly onto his heart. After all this time protecting their home and their bloody _king,_ this was what he’d gotten in return. Guinevere’s accusations were completely unfair. Everything he’d done had been in favor of Camelot and Arthur’s destiny. Why wouldn’t his old friend realize this? Why hadn’t believed him when he confessed this to her?

 

“Settle,” she demands. “Settle, my people. First I would like to give Merlin the floor. Surely he’d be glad to explain himself,” In all honesty, he should’ve seen this coming. What other reason, besides execution, would she have to present him before Camelot like this?

 

Guinevere moves out of the way, but not before harshly whispering into his ear. “Be lucky that I hadn’t informed them of your needless overtime with my husband. That, Merlin, you _will_ be sorry for,”

Merlin’s widened and he shivered. _How had she…?_

 

“Go on, now,” she urges, motioning to the angry crowd. “They’re waiting for you.”

 

His eyes scanned over the furious faces of the people of Arthur’s kingdom. Familiar faces shook their heads at him, as if they didn’t want to believe that their good friend had betrayed his own master. One face had dried tears upon it and Merlin couldn’t bring himself to linger on it. _Gaius…_

 

“Please…” he starts, voice hoarse. “Please believe me when I say that the king’s death was not my intention. It’s true that I am a warlock. It is because of my magic that Arthur and all of Camelot came as far as it had. I did everything in my power to ensure that he’d taken his rightful place upon that throne. In fact, I was there through every hardship, heartbreak, and danger that had come upon his majesty. I helped through it all. I helped him overcome and push through it,” he paused, feeling his throat tighten as his mind reminisced.

 

“So, don’t you _dare_ accuse me of betraying him! I…” he unconsciously glances back at Gwen, his dear old friend, before he reveals unto the crowd. “I loved him.”

 

The crow below has been stunned into silence. No one dared to question the heartfelt and earnest tone in this young man’s voice.

 

“He was like my very own brother,” he added for the sake of appearance, not wanting even more accusations and questions to emerge from the crowd. “King Arthur meant so much to me. At this very moment the only deed I’m guilty of, I believe, is not thinking hard enough.

I’m sure that there was I something - _anything-_ I could’ve done to save him, but I didn’t. For that, people of Camelot, I apologize.”

 

Guinevere was not please at the pitied expressions on the people who had just been shouting for Merlin’s death. Her fists clenched at her sides as she ordered the guards to grab a hold of the young sorcerer again.

 

“Still, you must atone for your actions, whether you believe them to be righteous or not.” Her angry eyes searched through the crowd. “Gaius! Bring me the vial!” she orders of Merlin’s guardian.

As the elder obediently walks to the platform, he takes a small container of clear fluid from his pocket and presents it before the queen. Guinevere takes the solution and removes its cork.

“As punishment, I will not condemn you to death,” she says, surprising both him and the crowd below. “I believe that to be too courteous for you.”

 

She holds up the vial, displaying for everyone around to see. “With the help of our dear physician, I have found a punishment that will best suit Merlin. If he consumes all of the contents in this vial, his soul will be forever bound to this earth: He will never die.”

 

The audience gasps and whispers amongst each other. “Can it really do that?”

“That’s unbelievable!”

“What’s the punishment in never dying?”

 

Merlin couldn’t help but agree with the last voice. This is was supposed to be his “grand penalty”?

 

“In due time, maybe in a few centuries from now, you’ll learn. You’ll understand everything,” Gwen says with a smirk. She has the vial over to one of the guards holding on to Merlin’s shoulder. “Make him drink it now,” she orders.

 

All too soon, Merlin feels the gritty substance slide past his tongue and move down his throat. He feels an unpleasant burning sensation in his stomach, but nothing else.

Guinevere nods.

“You will not be banished from Camelot, but you will no longer work for this castle. Get him out of my sight,” With that, the queen turns away.

 

 

**_-Merlin-_ **

 

 

His understanding of his current predicament came at the death of Gaius. Fourteen years after drinking the vial, the elderly dies of natural causes. Merlin attended the funeral with a heavy heart as he realized that he’d never see him again. Where he had passed on to, Merlin would never go.

 

Fifty years after that, a plague so horrid that not even the new physician couldn’t begin to grasp what he was up against came over Camelot. Merlin helped out as much as he could. He had even used some of the remedies he’d learn from Gaius, but they hadn’t worked against it. The disease had taken the lives of over fifty people, including those of Sir Leon, Lady Morgana, and Queen Guinevere. In her death, the queen left behind a nineteen year old son. Prince Gerard Pendragon had been well and prepared to take the throne in his mother’s place.

More years passed, and more familiar friendly faces died off. Merlin, still feeling and look as he did when he’d been punishment, had been to every one of their funerals. Eventually, he grew tired of burying what loved ones he had left.

 

After ninety years of drinking the accursed substance, Merlin finally gathers enough strength to leave Camelot.

 

Regrettably, that was where his true misery would begin.


	2. Arthur G. Whitman (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first reincarnation of Arthur Pendragon

April 9th, 1591 was when Merlin felt the twinge in his chest for the first time. A little over two centuries have passed since he said goodbye to Camelot. Unfortunately, his lifestyle turned nomadic. He'd stop in a small town, stay for a few days, and be p on his way before the working man rose for duty. He never spoke to anyone and in return they left him to his lonesome. When the strange sensation came over him, he was living in Getty, a small town outside of London. It went as quickly as it came, so the warlock paid it no mind. His mind drifted back to it when he suddenly felt the need to stay in Getty.

Something inside him told him, "You can't leave, Merlin. Something's coming for you." Whatever that "something” was, it had been very determined to keep Merlin put. He was ready to leave the house he was staying in, luggage packed and all, and before he could step outside, the twinge in his chest had turned into a sharp pinch. With each step he took, the pain grew. "Enough!" he growled to the pain, "I...I'm staying!" Since leaving was off the table, Merlin decided to at least attempt to make a living until it all passed over.

 

**_-Merlin-_ **

 

Nearly two decades later -which were mere months in Merlin's book- as Merlin eats one silent evening, several frantic knocks pound on his front door. He frowns and sets his food down. Before he could twist the knob on his door, it swung open on its own. His breath hitches when he sees what stood on the other side.

"Oi! It's about time, Stranger," a familiar voice nags at him. "I thought this damn rain was gonna wash me away."

Merlin choked back an ecstatic sob.

_Will..._

His old friend looked just as he did before he died all those years ago. This time, instead of old tattered rags and cloths, Will was wearing a clean, casual brown suit. "You mind showing me to your guestroom, Stranger?" he asked with his eyebrows raised.

Merlin had been staring at him for a long moment, he realized and blushed. "W-wait a moment! Who are you?" Merlin stuttered out.

"William Hamm, sir," he introduced with an outstretched hand, a heavy Irish accent on his lips. "And your name?" Merlin grasped his hand. "Merlin," Will let out a laugh. "Merlin? You mean like the old warlock from the old tales?"

A scoff left said warlock. Since when had his life become a bedtime story? Despite his confusion, Merlin indulged him. "Yes, the very same." "Was your mum a fan?" He couldn't stop the pained clench in his chest at the thought his mother. Hunith cried with him the day she died.

 _"I'll never see you again,"_ the woman said. _"Damn that wench. Damn her."_

Will noticed the change in Merlin's expression and sets a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. Did she pass recently?" It felt as though it had just happened, despite that it was over two hundred years ago. "Yes, I guess I'm still-"

"Ah! Say no more, Merlin. It's my fault for being crude and whatnot," Will reassures him. “So, about that guestroom."

Merlin sighed. "Why are you even here? Where did you come from?"

"Believe it or not, I come from Ireland, here to meet someone special," Will smirks. "I just need a place to stay until we're ready to move in together."

It sounded reasonable, even a little romantic.

That wasn't the Will he grew up with. "Who is this special person?" he asked.

"I'll know when I meet 'em!" Merlin nearly groaned at Will's sudden burst of laughter.

_Oh, there it is._

"Honestly though, my dear Merlin, my mum kicked me out. ’Ya come back when ya find yer'self a lass and give me grandbabies!' Isn't it sad?" he rambled.

Merlin wanted to ask more question (Why this house? How long before this idiotic plan of yours fails?), but it was getting pretty late and fatigue was starting to take over him.

"The guestroom's down the hall, first room on the left. Goodnight," he yawns his old friend.

"Yeah, you do look like you're goin' to keel over. I'll see ya up and early then!" Merlin smiled and waved him off before going to bed.

 

The next day, while the two men sat down for breakfast, Will had three lifetimes worth of stories to tell. Apparently, he's spent his whole childhood working for a man who, according to Will, was desperately after his mother's hand.

"Yes, I remember one time the old oaf brought Mum some flowers, piles of petunias!" he said with enthusiasm. "But, you see, petunias gave old mum the sniffles and sneezes and the poor man ran away crying like a wee baby!"

Merlin couldn't see what was so funny, but he laughed along with him anyway.

"So, Merlin," Will said once he'd calmed himself. "How come you've been living by your lonesome?"

"Needed a change. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What makes you think you’re special someone is in Getty?" Will crossed his arms, drawing in a deep breath. Merlin was on the edge of his chair.

"Honestly, I was on my merry way to London, and then the rain started pouring on my head!"

 _Of course that's what he'd say._ He cursed himself for expecting something different.

"Yours was the first one I saw, so here I am!" he holds up his cup of tea. "Cheers to new friendship, eh Merlin?"

"Of course, William," he says, raising his cup with a forced smile. "Call me Will and we'll get along just fine."

 

 

**_-Merlin-_ **

 

 

Days spent with William Hamm were better than the days Merlin had spent alone. He showed the Irishman around town, embarrassing himself when the two found out he knew next to nothing about the people in Getty.

"Well, I figured you for a hermit," Will had said, shaking his head. "Why don't we discover old Getty together then?"

After that day, Merlin and Will would leave the house and explore around the small town. It turns out that there was a little pub a few streets away from the house.

"Why haven't you taken advantage of this?!" Will had commented, on his knees in worship of the establishment. "There was never any pubs close to _my_  house! Well, it's not like old mummy woulda let me..."

The market in town square was worth seeing. Merlin had run into a few familiar faces whilst looking over the merchandise.

"Good day, sir! Would you like some venison this afternoon?" He smiled, glad that Will wasn't the only one who'd been brought back.

Freya was smiling politely at him from behind the market stand. How big his heart swelled at the sight of her pretty face!

"Yes, I'll have some," he answers, giving her his brightest smile.

When Will took him by a clinic some kilometers away, he saw another sight for sore eyes.

"If you lot don't hurry with my herbs, I promise you..."

Merlin could've sobbed himself into a puddle.

"Gaius?"

The elder man stopped and turned at the sound Merlin's voice. His grey brow arched curiously. "Yes sir?" he asks, voice wary.

Will nudge him, also wary. "Do you know this man, Merlin?"

Gaius chuckled. "Merlin? As in the one from the little ones' tales?"

 _Again with this?_  He couldn't help but think. But he couldn't find it in his heart to be annoyed with him.

"Yes, the very same," he jokes.

The joyous one-sided reunion was short-lived, as the clinic was quite busy that day. Before he left, Merlin said to his old friend "If you need any extra help, I am available."

Gaius nodded to him. "I might just take you up on that offer, Merlin."

 

_**-Merlin-** _

 

By sunset, Merlin was anxious. Everyone from Camelot, both with familiar and unfamiliar faces, had been popping up and about around Getty. It was only a matter of time before he saw _him_. His heart sped just from the thought of seeing that face, hearing that voice, and breathing back in those intoxicating memories.

"Merlin! Watch where ya goin, ya nutcase!"

Will tried to warn him, but the young warlock was too wrapped up in his own mind palace to see the figure move in front of him. He slammed right into another hard body.

"I'm terribly sorry, sir!" Merlin sputtered.

"Don't worry too much about it," the familiar voice shocked his senses. "Though, Boss will be coarse with me for soiling my uniform."

"Oi! If it isn't the Ol' Irish shipyards own mum!" Will cackled at the man. "Gwaine, how've ya been?"

"Will! I've seen better days and aren't you a sight for sore eyes!" The man, whom Merlin remembered as Sir Gwaine, pulled Will in for a bear hug. He, too, looked the same. The same long hair and messy scruff he used to see around the castle.

"I see the ice princess has you hard at work!" Will commented, making Merlin's blood freeze. "You'd think the bloke had ya lot in chains!"

The men's laughter was killed by a sharp, demanding voice.

“Gwaine! I don’t remember giving you orders to chat with the commoners!”

Oh how Merlin could never forget that voice. It haunted his dreams nearly every night, though more soft spoken than the snarling one presently.

Gwaine’s body jolted and whipped around to face the angry man.

“So sorry, Princess!” he joked. “Can’t you give me a few more moments to catch up with an old friend?”

Merlin looks down as furious footsteps slam their way towards the three of them.

 _It can’t be._ He pleads within himself. _Is it really…?_

“We’ve still got work to do, you imbecile! You can buzz around on your own time!”

That nagging tone…

Those brown leather boots…

Those bright blue eyes…

 

Merlin’s, as he scolds himself for unconsciously looking up, left him and was reluctant to come back. He didn’t blame it. This was an incredible circumstance.

King Arthur has returned.

Even if it wasn’t the king exactly, it was still an occasion to be celebrated. There was so much to say, so many words stored in Merlin’s century old head, yet the only words he uttered were:

“I’m sorry.”

This Arthur smirked at him. “It’s quite alright. You can have him back after the work is done.”

“How about tonight? There’s a pub by ours, Madame’s, we could see ya there!” Will offered.

Gwaine cheered. “Yes, I’m in need of a few pints after this. Can ya keep with me, Will?”

“Don’t tell me ya forgotten who can actually hold a-”

“Can you come, too?”

Merlin’s anxious voice cuts off Will’s response. He and his friend arched their eyebrows at him, but listened for the boss’ answer.

Arthur sighed at them. “I don’t think so…”

Before Merlin had the chance to accept the rejection. Gwaine scoffed out loud.

“Trust me, kid. Princess can’t hold a sip, let alone a whole pint!” he said, causing Will to erupt into laughter with him. They laugh more when Arthur’s face burned bright red. Merlin successfully held back his giggles.

“I can hold more than you lot!” he turns to Merlin with a scowl. “Madame’s, right? I’ll arrive with the rest of the men. Let’s go, Gwaine!”

The men say their good-byes and Will and Merlin waved them off.

“Wasn’t that lucky?” Will says, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Let’s get back! I’m growing a wee bit peckish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to do one big chapter, but it's easier on my life when I split it up~


	3. Arthur Whitman (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first reincarnation of Arthur Pendragon

Sometime later, as Will and Merlin prepared to leave, Will cornered him with a surprising question.

“Did you know that bloke? You know, Gwaine’s boss?”

Technically, he _didn’t_ Arthur. He knew who he used to be. At least that’s what he told himself so he wouldn’t feel bad about lying to Will. “No, why?”

Will chuckles. “That looked you gave ‘em! Do you fancy a man like that?” his laughter turned into his favored uproar at how Merlin flushed at him. “Now, now! It’s quite alright, Merlin! I don’t judge! Besides, the ice princess was a bit attractive…”

“For God’s sake, Will!” Merlin squeaks at the Irishmen.

He just shrugged. “He’s not my type, Merlin! Calm down, will ya?”

The two stroll down to the bar with nothing but the moon lighting their way. Merlin’s heart raced and pounded so much that he was sure Will would hear it. Well, he probably couldn’t hear over the sound of his best friend's voice telling yet another story.

“Mum always did like Harold better than Reginald,” he rambled. “I don’t know why, though. Harold always had boils.”

Merlin groaned at him. “Why ever did he have boils?”

Will shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess he was just born with the uglies!” the man laughed hysterically at his own joke. It made his companion cringe at the thought of those horrid boils.

The tavern was a few patrons short from full and Merlin wished he was back home. He wasn’t used to seeing so many people packed into one place. Not even the tavern in Camelot was this crowded on its best days. Before he could even think about leaving, Gwaine’s voice slithered to him and Will. “Oi! Over here, lads!” he shouted over the bustling crowd.

Will pulled Gwaine in for a bear hug and the two shared a laugh. Merlin gazed over Gwaine’s shoulder, hoping to see an annoyed pair of blue eyes. They weren’t annoyed when Merlin found them, instead they were glazed over.

“Oi! You should’ve seen the ice princess earlier!” Gwaine howled. “He only had two pints and he can hardly stand up!” Will laugh right along with him.

Merlin watched as Arthur stumbled towards them, unsuccessfully holding back his giggles.

“What did you lot say about me?!” he garbled. “I’m not a bloody princess!”

“Don’t deny it, Princess! You’re the prettiest one in all of the land!” Will said.

Arthur face flushed a brighter red. “Do I look like I stay locked away in towers and dungeons?”

“Actually…” Merlin started, but ended up with Arthur’s third drink spilled all over his face.

Will and Gwaine nearly fell to the ground.

“C’mon, mate! Let’s leave these two to their little spat,” Will offers, winking at Merlin. Gwaine catches on and winks with him.

“Have fun, Merlin!” Gwaine takes his best friend to the opposite side of the pub. “Make sure you have yourself a few pints!”

Merlin made sure Arthur found a stool to steady himself on. It went completely unappreciated, just the way he liked.

“Merlin?” Arthur scoffed. “That’s your name?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Ha! What? Was your mum a fan of fairy tales?”

This time, Merlin didn’t let the comment put him off. He brushed it aside and laughed. “Like you have room to talk, Princess Clotpole!”

 

Arthur gasped. “You obviously need some more to drink!”

Another pink was wasted on Merlin’s face, but Merlin hadn’t flinched.

“Oi!” the barkeep shouts. “Waste another one of me pints and I’ll have your arse on the wall!”

“Sorry!” Merlin shouted back.

“Sod off!” Arthur added. “If you wanted some all you had to do was ask!”

 

“Out of me bar!” he screams, tossing glasses their way. “Get out, now!”

 

They barely dodged his attacks before they ran out of the doors. Arthur was struck in the face by one of the glasses. It left a small bruise on his left cheeks and he was less than happy about it.

“Are you mad, woman? You could’ve killed me!” he shouted after the barkeep.

Merlin pulled him away from the bar. “Where do you live? I can take you home.”

“No! Let me at her! That cow!”

“Arthur! Please?” Thankfully, Arthur wasn’t as strong as he once was. He definitely put up a fight, however.

“Let me go, _Mer_ lin!”

“Ok!” Merlin groans. “We’re off to mine, then.”

 

 

 

**_-Merlin-_ **

 

 

Merlin set Arthur on his bed, where the former king of Camelot laid back and stared up at the ceiling. He huffed and wriggled about. “I can’t believe I was kicked out of a rotting place like that!” he ranted, half to himself and half to Merlin. “Me! Arthur Whitman! My father’s led countless expeditions to west… Western… What did you say, Merlin?”

“I said nothing,” Merlin giggles. “Please, continue. Tell me more about your father. Is his name Uther?”

“Arthur’s features scrunched up with disgust. “No, what kind of name is that? My father’s name is Sir Raleigh Whitman!”

_I guess not everything remained the same._

“I wish he’d start treating me like I was his son,” he grumbled after a hiccup.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“After all that time I spent studying and working during summers whilst the lot of them went on holiday to Sicily he hands over all of the fortune he’d earned to my spoiled as all hell sister! Damn him, damn Morgana, and damn the pocket change she gives me to feed my family each year.”

Merlin sighed.

So, Arthur was married in this life as well.

His relationship with his father and sister hadn’t changed much either.

Morgana was still her father’s favorite.

“What of your family, Arthur?” Merlin asked during his seething silence. “How many children do you have?”

A little smile lit up on Arthur’s face. It warmed Merlin’s heart while simultaneously crushing it to bits. “My wife, Guinevere, died giving birth to our second child. We had a son and a daughter: Edward and Gracie. I left them with Morgana whilst I traveled the country for work.”

This Arthur was a widower. Part of Merlin wanted to cry out with joy, the other wanted to vomit for even feeling such a thing. The way Arthur talks about the children made his heart swell with the same admiration he’d felt centuries ago. It pained him to remember how the Arthur of that time never saw his own son grow up. He was grateful that this one was able to.

“Edward and Gracie, huh?” Merlin said. “Good names.”

 

“Gracie looks so much like Gwen that it frightens me most days. Edward reminds me of myself when I was younger.”

 

“You’re twenty-two years old, Arthur. Your younger years aren’t that far behind you,” he jokes.

 

“I’m not going to ask how you know that, but do shut up!” he snaps back, switching his body away from Merlin. “Good night, Merlin.”

 

Arthur fell asleep before Merlin could give a response.

He sighed. “I guess I’ll sleep in the den, then,” his eyes gaze over Arthur’s sleeping form one last time, as if he were going to disappear when he walked away.

 

“It’s been awhile,” he whispers into the silent air. “Welcome back, Sire.”


End file.
